


Lee Felix and his Many Encounters with Death

by TalicTriesToWrite



Series: A Collection of Stray Kids Oneshots [3]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But he has problems, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Child Death, Child Lee Felix, Childhood Trauma, Depression, Drowning, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Felix's mum is an asshole in this, Fiction, Growing Up, Hopeful Ending, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I know I do this mommy-issue thing in all my one shots im sorry, I promise i love my mum she is a legend, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lee Felix (Stray Kids) is a Sweetheart, Lee Felix (Stray Kids)-centric, Minor Character Death, Minor Lee Felix/Seo Changbin, Not Beta Read, Ocean, Other, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sad Lee Felix (Stray Kids), Sad with a Happy Ending, Symbolism, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, i hate this title, i wrote this in 24 hours yeet, mark this for later u cowards, soft moments too kinda, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23065204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalicTriesToWrite/pseuds/TalicTriesToWrite
Summary: Felix was seven years old when he discovered what death was.And then it happened again when he was twelve. And twice when he was fifteen.No matter how far he tried to flee, Death, with its looming scythe followed him.It followed him, it haunted him. It destroyed him.'He wondered if this was what dying felt like because having nothing to live for was not living at all.'
Relationships: Lee Felix (Stray Kids) & Everyone, Lee Felix/Seo Changbin
Series: A Collection of Stray Kids Oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564417
Comments: 15
Kudos: 197





	Lee Felix and his Many Encounters with Death

**Note: Please stay safe while you are reading this. It includes child death, suicidal themes, depression and eating disorders.**

Felix was seven years old when he discovered what death was.

It was also when he made his first-ever ‘ideal career’ change.

His Dad dragged him to a hospital bed after picking him up early from school where he was scared by the big and loud beeping machines and felt icky inside when his Mum made him hold his grandma’s cold, sickly hand even though he didn’t want to.

He knew where he was – he learnt about it last week in school when his class was learning about occupations and locations, where he had to answer the infamous ‘what do you want to be when you grow up’ question. He had written ‘doctor’ in big ugly, but determined writing, sure of himself because it made a lot of money.

But when he watched his grandmother die, he decided he didn’t want to be a doctor anymore.

He didn’t really understand what was going on, but everyone freaked out when the beeping from one of the machines that had a green line that moved like waves on a beach, stopped.

Honestly, he was just glad that it was quiet because it had started to hurt his ears, but nothing could have prepared him for the sound of his mother’s cries.

Because unlike the beeping, that hurt his heart.

After dinner that night, he asked his Dad what the machine was, and why it stopped, and why Mummy was so sad.

His Dad told him that ‘Nana won’t be here anymore, because she went to a better place, a place that she will be happy and without pain in.’

Felix had just nodded and gave his Dad a hug before the man turned off the bedroom light.

For what felt like hours he had waited for his mother to come in and tuck him into bed with a fat, wet, kiss on his forehead that he always pretended he hated but secretly loved.

That night was the first time his mother didn’t come and kiss him goodnight.

And that was what made him realise that death was something far bigger, and far more serious than he had ever known of before.

When he was nine, Death hit the Lee family again.

This time it wasn’t a grandparent who died, it was the family dog Robbie. Robbie was technically his younger sister of three years Olivia’s dog as she had got him from a rescue home for her sixth birthday, and when they found Robbie dead in his dog-bed, she had been in hysterics.

“I’m going to be a vet when I’m older” he had told his other sister Rachel as they buried the golden retriever under a frangipani tree.

His older sister had just slung her arm around his shoulder and pulled him into the side of her bright pink ‘Roxy’ t-shirt to comfort him.

They got a new dog the following December, a chocolate brown Labrador they decided to name, fittingly, ‘Chocolate.’

Felix still filled her dog-bowl every night and picked up her droppings off the lawn like he was assigned to do, but he never really got close with the animal. Not like his sisters did.

Chocolate just felt like a replacement for Robbie, which Felix was old enough to understand that in some sort of way, she was. But he never questioned his Mum or Dad about it, instead keeping his thoughts to himself – he didn’t want to upset Olivia anyway.

But when Chocolate had to be put down just a few months later, a ‘freak and unexplainable incident’ the veterinarian had said in sadness, as Chocolate was only a few years old, Felix hated that he didn’t feel that sad.

It made him feel guilty that he never loved Chocolate like how he did Robbie, and how he never loved Robbie like how Olivia did. 

From that day, when they buried a dog under the mulberry tree, he decided to make sure he put in as much effort in as possible to spend the most time with their next pet so he would feel sad when it left the Earth and went to Heaven (a concept which he had recently been taught at school.)

But even when Olivia’s birthday came around, there was no ‘going outside’ for a ‘surprise’ of a new puppy (cavoodle’s were all the craze) or the unwrapping of a brand-new dog collar at Christmas.

The Lee’s didn’t get a dog ever again (Olivia was more into horses now anyway) and as they moved to a new house with a smaller back garden (much to his displeasure) they simply didn’t have enough room.

One night, a whole year later when rethinking his life, he came to an epiphany surrounding his promise. Death was what stopped him from fulfilling his promise of loving the next dog that came into his family because after Chocolate, there was no ‘next’ dog. No ‘next’ thing to love. Death had stopped that from ever occurring, had stopped him from really bonding with an animal like his sisters did.

It had taken that opportunity, the staple of a pet of many children’s lives, away from him.

And that was what made him realise that death was something final, something that didn’t necessarily lead into new beginnings or new hopes. It was what made him realise that death was the end.

The next time Death drew its scythe on Felix Lee’s life was a tragedy, one that made him feel sick to the stomach if he ever thought about it.

In Australia, an island surrounded by the picturesque but choppy sea, it was inevitable that something is bound to go wrong.

He’d seen reports in the nightly news a few times per year about people drowning at Australia’s beaches, especially in the summertime when the sand and water was so crowded.

But it wasn’t the too-hot summer. It was late spring, November, actually, and it was a class trip, one they had earned after all passing their first-ever exams of Year Six.

The graduating class of junior school, all aged eleven to twelve were ecstatic when they heard about the planned trip to Sydney’s most popular beach.

Felix was practically shaking in his bright red swimming trunks – every summer he would go to surf camp with his Church group, so he loved the waves and the beach!

It had been a pleasant day when they started the bus ride out, but a cold snap had settled across Sydney, the teachers on the trip constantly checking their phones about weather updates and sea movement.

Just as they were about to call the whole trip off, Felix remembered joining in on the protests to swim as it was to ‘celebrate finishing their first ever exams.’

Two teachers against exactly sixty screaming twelve-year-old’s in cozzies and towels was not a fair fight and with the wave of a hand and a yell of ‘ _stay between the red and yellow flags_ ’, Felix had victoriously run into the cold waves, not even caring about the freezing water or the gathering clouds.

At first there was nothing that was wrong – the bigger the waves, the more fun it was to swim in anyway, and it wasn’t like anyone _couldn’t_ swim: the school had enforced them all to do swimming lessons during their ‘P.E’ period once a term.

But then the sky grew darker, and the waves became stronger and stronger, to the point that even he was having trouble getting his sense of direction back after being smacked down by a particularly large wave.

So, when the shrill of a danger whistle sounded out across the whole beach, Felix was rather content to get out of the water and re-catch his breath on the safety of the sand, his only complaint being the drizzle of rain that had started up.

The air had become colder and soon enough everyone was begging to get back onto the bus, but there seemed to be an issue, and Felix had grumbled to his friends when they had to all stand in the freezing cold, only in their swimwear lined up in alphabetical order.

As the teachers went down the line, the sense of dread growing unpleasantly in his stomach alluded to him that something wasn’t quite right. The rest of his class seemed to realize it too because as the teacher recounted them and examined them with fear growing in her eyes, no one complained about the weather.

Then, a girl burst into screams.

“Thea’s gone! She’s not here!”

In that instant Felix felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was under the water after a wave crashed right into his face. Salt from the sea and his tears stung his eyes when he helplessly watched as one of the teachers sprinted for the lifeguard who was still herding a group of the elderly out of the water.

On the trip that was supposed to be a celebration, the worst of the worst happened.

Felix had waited with his classmates, his lips turning blue from the cold, as he waited for his mother to pick him up.

Fifty-nine students sat in a local café someone from the search and rescue team had rounded them into, a gritty, but free-of-charge hot chocolate warming their trembling hands.

Some people cried. Some kept asking the teacher who had stayed with them what was going on every five minutes. Felix was numb; silent.

Thea had been good at swimming, she was the second-best out of the girls and could even beat the weaker guys in the class when they did trials just last week in preparation for the trip. It just didn’t make sense. None at all.

When he watched the news that night, Rachel at his side, tears slid down his freckled and sun-burnt cheeks.

The television reminded everyone to be safe when swimming, and how to notice, identify, and safely get out of a rip, a ‘localised, strong current of water’ that leads to an average of twenty-one Australian fatalities every year.

Primary school graduation was a bleak event – it was only days after the funeral Felix had went to with his Dad despite never really having talked to the girl at all.

The two teachers who had travelled with them that day were fired, at Felix felt sad for them both. He had liked them.

When the Church group offered their annual surfing camp in January, his Mother declined for him.

He did their dancing camp instead, and although he didn’t like it much, at least there was no existential fear of sudden death on his mind when he learnt hip-hop.

After a while he decided it was actually quite fun, and he dropped both swimming and surfing entirely in favour of it, despite how his Dad offered to take him to their local pool every Saturday.

Felix always declined, and when he does have to go, he watched Rachel and Olivia, especially Oliva who is still wearing her pink arm floaties she’s embarrassed of, as she’s his younger sister.

Sitting on the cold metal bench is where Felix decided he wanted to be a lifesaver at the beach, so he can stop tragedies like Thea McCarter from happening again. But the next week when he goes to dip his toes in the water, the same bright red board-shorts on, he froze and gave up that dream, his stomach aching like he was about to throw up.

A few days before Christmas has his first-ever nightmare of being tied to the bottom of an ocean by a chain and being tossed around like a doll by tumultuous water that made him choke on salt-water then stop breathing.

The next night he dreamt of reaching out his hand to save Thea McCarter in her bright pink rash-vest, but just as she went to take his hand, she disappeared.

Felix started out his first year of high school with a fear of water and a myriad of memories.

Eleven months later he goes to the first anniversary of Thea’s death. He was shocked when he saw her family; they were all in tears – the parents and the three younger siblings – all holding a candle as the Church prayed.

And that was what made him realise that death was something that could happen to anyone, at any time and it could happen without the chance to say goodbye. And that made him scared, paranoid even, because Death was lurking, always waiting to claim its next victim.

At the end of the service, Felix walked home feeling colder than he did at the beach.

There was only one thought in his mind. It could have been him.

So, when he got home, he didn’t sleep. Instead, he grabbed a pen and started to write his feelings, his fears all on the back of his French vocabulary list.

The next day in dance, he bobbed his head along to the beat of the song, the scrawl of words he had written down the night prior at the edge of his mind.

That’s when he realised that he had made music.

Felix found out at fifteen that sometimes death is intentional. Sometimes people want to die and sometimes they actually go through with it.

It’s someone from his school, a boy he only knew the name of, in his final year of high school.

Felix barely knew him – only remembering two times he had come in contact with Brayden Crest, once when he had been crying after his failed math test and the boy had asked if he was alright, and the second time when Felix had tried out for joining the student council, where the other remarked ‘ _wow, bro – your voice is deep!_ ’

Those two interactions hadn’t been something Felix had taken to mind – something he was thankful of yes, but something he forgot a few days later.

But as the school sat in the auditorium, talking about the depression, and guilt and how to ask for help because ‘everyone needs to talk sometimes, even if you’re a man,’ Felix realised just how fucked up it all was.

He sat, peeling at his hangnails and anxious habit he had picked up, as he listened as the teacher’s talked about how to deal with stress, bullying in a single-sex environment, and how grades ‘don’t define who you are.’

After the assembly everyone was stoic, the exact opposite of what the teacher’s wanted. There were no tears, just mutual silence. Mourning.

The school’s Chapel leader gave out a prayer, one to Brayden’s friends and family, who will hope to ‘find the courage’ to move on and accept what had happened.

As he spoke, Felix checked his pulse, feeling his heavy heartbeat thrum against his fingers.

The prayer didn’t mention Brayden, or how he died at all. He eyed the cross on the wall. Suicide was a sin after all.

The newspaper’s said it was a tragedy. But Felix knew better.

Jumping in front of a train had ended Brayden Crest’s short life, but it had been this school had killed him.

Yet, they had all gone back to the same classrooms the next day and pushed the cloud that hung over the school for a few hours out of mind.

There was a photo of Brayden hanging above the counsellor office’s door. The boy was smiling in it, and vaguely, Felix remembered how the elder always had a smile on his face.

For a lot of that time then, it must have been faked.

School moved quickly after that, wanted the bad press and the teary eyes of parents as far away as possible.

As he was in Year Ten now, he was forced to start going to ‘Career Counselling,’ which helped him choose his subjects for whatever job he wanted to do in the future. Every time he went, he dreaded these meetings, because he had absolutely no idea of what he wanted to do.

He liked dancing, yes, and he had started to take his songwriting more seriously (he spent twenty whole dollars on a moleskin black notebook for writing last week), but he knew those would most likely lead nowhere. He couldn’t possibly make a viable career out of music – and he knew his parents wanted him to choose something more realistic.

So, every stupid meticulous meeting, he said one of two things when asked what he wanted to do after Year Twelve, ‘I don’t know’ or simply, ‘something to do with business.’

His dull, bored responses seemed to irritate the teachers because he wasn’t asked back for another counselling session.

He laughed about it when all his friends still had to go, but on the inside, he felt something brewing inside of him, like a storm, or a potion that could only end in disaster. It brewed and brewed, churned and churned, darkened and darkened, because he finally understood why the school didn’t care to meet with him every Wednesday anymore.

They had given up on him.

Things at home weren’t great either – his mother kept pressuring his to study more and go outside less, to discover what job he wanted to do, and start to plan for university.

One day he had just said ‘I don’t think I want to go to university, Mum’

She had just laughed, like he had made the funniest joke in the world.

The storm, the potion grew stronger.

It definitely didn’t help that he discovered the hard-hitting fact that he was gay halfway through one of his dance lessons when his friend’s shirt lifted up an inch too high. There had always been an inkling that something wasn’t quite right, but it was one hundred per-cent consolidated when he found himself watching gay porn one night (and enjoyed it.)

He went to Church the following Sunday just like how the Lee’s did every week. There was a passage about how it was unacceptable to love one’s own sex. How it was a sin.

Felix had laughed aloud in the middle of the service, like the _mother-fucking Bible_ had made the funniest joke in the whole world.

He wasn’t allowed back to Church after that. When his Mum screamed at him for his behaviour he had just grinned evilly and flipped her off.

Six months into the school year, a boy in Felix’s math class overdosed on drugs. He was an intelligent kid but reclusive; he never had any close friends and always wore a grey hoodie over his uniform that made the more ‘popular’ boys give him the nickname of ‘school shooter.’

When they all sat in the auditorium again, James’ face plastered on the screen, the teachers gave the same old ‘reach out and ask for help’ talk. Once again, the school was in the Sunday Paper, and once again Felix bowed his head and clasped his hands, the same ones with bleeding fingertips and ripped-off hangnails together, when the Chapel leader prayed.

His eyebrows knitted in fury when he realised that he was saying the exact same thing, word-for-word as he did before, the only change being the name.

When he went home that night, he shrugged of Rachel’s hug and ignored Olivia when she asked what was wrong. He listened to the angriest music of new genre of music he found, KPOP, and wrote out his feelings into little lyrics he didn’t sing, the fear of admitting it was true too great. When he finished, he ripped up the paper and threw it in the bin, like it had never existed.

He punched his wall instead.

And that was what made him feel a little bit better.

Brayden Crest and James Greven was what made him realise that death was something that some people wanted, and when they achieved it, no one but a few people actually fucking cared. The school was more concerned about media coverage, the Church thought it was a sin, and he didn’t even really know them that well anyway.

Dinner that night was a quiet event. His parents weren’t upset in the same way after Thea died, it was different, a more judgemental sort of thing.

And that _really pissed_ him off.

“You don’t even fucking care!” he had screamed at his mother after Rachel had hurried Olivia out of the dining room. “Two people are dead, and they were _my_ age, at _my_ school, and all you can say is that it was unfortunate?”

He had scoffed, feeding into the flame of his burning rage and ignoring the way his mother stared at him like she didn’t even know who he was anymore.

He clenched his fists by his side, one of them purpled by a bruise, and spat harshly onto the wooden floor.

“-Fuck you Mum!”

Then ignoring his Father’s calls, he turned and sprinted out of the house, into the night and under the flickering lampposts. He ran until his lungs begged for air and his legs wobbled like jelly.

He stopped at a cul-de-sac, a dead end.

There was nowhere else to go.

So, with his fists shoved into the pockets of his dirty grey hoodie _(James used to always wear grey)_ and forced a smile _(just like how Brayden did)_ and started to walk back home.

When he went through the front door, he said his goodnight’s as if nothing had happened. His mother didn’t say anything either.

And just like that, the world went on. And Felix realised how that was what truly sucked.

At sixteen-and-a-half, was the birth of an opportunity, and the death, well the metaphorical death, of himself.

He had finally decided what he wanted to do.

“You can’t _leave school_ to go chase this stupid fantasy in Korea,” his mother had screamed, her eyes full of tears. “You’re _my son_ , Felix, there is no way you are wasting your education and my money away on something that is not going to come true!”

She paused and Felix waited for it.

“Can’t you… just be like Rachel? She’s happy – she’s studying med at university, and you’re…” she motioned towards him with the drying cloth in her wrinkled palm. “You’re trying to be an _idol_ and you can’t even speak Korean, _for God’s sake._ ”

He had swallowed back the lump in his throat, his brown eyes wide, but relentless.

“This is who I am” he declared, grasping the JYP Acceptance Letter in his hand like it was hope. “And if you can’t see that,” he paused, the final insult on the tip of his tongue- “then you are not my Mother!”

He watched as she dropped the plate she was drying, the white porcelain shattering on the tiles. A tear slid down her face and Felix bit his lip. The deed was done, and in some way, the plate symbolised their relationship too.

The next week he said goodbye to his friends; the ones from dancing, Church and school, wished them the best and packed his suitcase full of ambition and Korean Language books.

It was a quiet drive to Sydney airport. His Dad hummed to the song on the radio, Olivia hugged her plush horse toy and Rachel held his hand, which was (embarrassingly) slighter bigger than his own. He looked at the city of skyscrapers passed outside the car window, wondering when he’d see them again. His mother sat silently; her mouth drawn in that same harsh line that he was starting to be more familiar with these days.

The car came to a stop in the five-minute waiting zone and Felix realised that there was no going back now.

“I’ll get your bag, Lix” his father offered, and Felix just nodded, watching numbly as his Dad got out the driver’s seat.

“I’m really gonna’ miss you” Olivia said, her eyes starting to water, and protectively Felix wrapped his arm around her and hugged her as she started to cry.

He made eye contact with his mother through the rear-view mirror.

“Bye Mum,” he said, ignoring the quiver of uncertainty in his voice.

She looked away, out the window. “Goodbye, Felix.”

His heart, just like the plate, broke.

The honking of a car behind them made Felix snap back into the present. Right, five-minute zone.

“I’ll come with you” Rachel offered, swinging her dark hair over her shoulder. She smiled, a forced one. “Knowing you, you won’t make it to security!”

Felix laughed at that; the hollow sound too loud in the car. He squeezed Olivia one last time.

“Bye lil’ sis. Be good at home, alright?”

He looked down to see the mess of brown hair nod and with that he pulled away and opened the car door.

“Here’s ya bag, mate” his father grinned, placing the red suitcase from the boot onto the concrete. “Stay safe alright? _Harabeoji_ and _Halmeoni_ are there for you, so if you ever need anything, go to them, alright? When I told them you are learning Korean, they were ecstatic, and they’ll be more than happy to cook for you!”

Felix laughed, his two grandparents' kind faces coming into his mind. “Thanks Dad, I will be.”

Quickly, mindful of the blue Toyota that was still angrily honking behind them, Felix pulled his Father in for a quick hug.

“Call us when you land, okay?” his father smiled, and Felix pretended he didn’t see the proud tears forming in the man’s eyes. “And your mother… she’s here for you too, yeah?”

Felix glanced towards the passenger seat, where his mother was still refusing to notice his existence. He almost choked on the ever-present lump in his throat. “Yeah, Dad, I know.”

Rachel took his hand and nudged his suitcase towards him with her foot. “Let’s go Lixie, don’t wanna miss the flight.”

Steeling himself, he smiled at Olivia who was cuddling Mr. Floofenshire (don’t ask, he didn’t come up with the name) in the car, gave his father one last quick salute and walked away, Rachel at his side.

The siblings walked in a comfortable silence until they reached the point where she could no longer be with him.

“Ah,” she sighed in a very Korean-way and fanned her eyes with her acrylic nails. “Look at you Lixie, you’re all grown up!”

“Oh God,” he laughed and burrowed into her side, just like he used to when they were kids. “Don’t even start – Dad was sentimental enough!”

She stilled and Felix looked up, a question in his eyes. “What? What’s wrong?”

She sighed again, the breath coming out staggered and shaky. “Lix, I – I don’t know… I’m just… sorry that Mum doesn’t really support this and always… _compares_ you with me.”

“Hey” he gripped her hands tighter in his, a frown on his face. “Don’t say that Rach, you worked hard to get into Uni, and well… she’s right in some ways, no one knows how it’ll go, if I’ll make it or not.”

Rachel was quiet at that.

“You’ll make it, Lixie” she whispered, the sound strangely promising. “I know you will.”

As he walked away from his sister, his family, Australia and all he’d ever known, he realised that death was not always a literal thing. It was the death of this chapter of his life. The death of himself in his Mother’s eyes as her son.

But in that death, that death that was necessary, there was the beginning of something new too.

“So… I’m really sorry Felix, but this time you won’t be able to continue with Stray Kids.”

Those words were the death of Lee Felix’s dream.

After months of hardships, all-nighter’s spent dancing, rapping or learning Korean, skype calls with Rachel, Olivia and his Father, and trying so hard to reach the only thing he had ever been truly passionate about, it was all stopped in a mere matter of minutes.

His only ever ambition was gone.

As he cried into Changbin’s arms, the boy whispering ‘hyung is sorry,’ he decided then and there that he hated Korea.

It had been a hope, a path, a tangible thing he could seize starting from receiving the acceptance letter in the mail. The plane ticket he had purchased out of his own pocket had been the second step, and then the touch-down and confusing airport all in a language he couldn’t understand had been the reality check.

The first month had been the hardest, the unfamiliar food, the strange smell of the air that lacked the salt of the sea or the scent of hot chips lathered in chicken salt from across the road. The language was a second thing – here he was Lee Felix not Felix Lee, here he was a foreigner even though he didn’t look like it at all, here he was always tired, anxious and scared, but he had hope and a goal that he could work towards.

He met Christopher, or ‘Bang Chan’, another Australian who had been here alone since he was thirteen and soon enough, they had become friends, as no language barrier separated them. Then he was introduced to seven other people and was given the title of ‘Male Team A’s ninth and final member.’

He had poured in every inch of his being into practice and learning Korean (Minho became his official teacher) and trying to be the best he could be.

He got caramel milkshakes with Jeongin even when the other seven members called them ‘gross’ because ‘caramel was an invalid flavour’ (it seemed to be the only thing Jisung and Hyunjin would agree on.) He was taught how to sing by the god himself Kim Woojin, he and Jisung had bonded when they realised their birthdays were one day after the other, and he got close with Chan when they ruminated on their days in Sydney (whenever homesickness hit like a brick, Chan always gave Felix a shoulder to cry on.) He, Hyunjin and Seungmin seemed to be the only three members that really cared about fashion, so they often went window shopping with each other in the sliver of free times.

Changbin, however, was a different story, because of course, Felix had developed a huge fat crush on the elder. Luckily, it was easy to hide, but also easy to feed into as despite his ‘dark aura,’ the boy seemed to have an affinity for cuddles (every time they touched, whether a holding hands or god forbid that one-time Changbin had kissed his cheek in front of the whole world, Felix’s heart would stutter and his cheeks would flush.)

But he knew, it could only stay at the level of infatuation. Anything more could lead to something dismal, something that could ruin Felix’s career before it even started.

Rachel, in all her insomnia-driven support, had illegally streamed the first episode of the survival show in Australia at four a.m. so she could be in ‘real-time’ with Korea despite the time-zone.

That gave him motivation. People were watching him back at home. One of his friends from school sent him a video of all his Sydney friends tuned in, cheering boyishly and loudly whenever he was on screen despite the fact that there were no English subtitles so they couldn’t understand the show.

Felix had laughed at that for days.

But then Minho had gotten eliminated and despite not knowing the elder all too well, it felt like a knife had been shoved through his heart.

The eight remaining members had worked hard. But, evidently, not hard enough.

Lee-Felix-Felix-Lee thus decided he hated Korea, because it had given him hope, a chance, but had taken it all away in one screwed-up lyric.

In one second. In a few words.

A few _Korean_ words.

Christopher had told him to ‘always come find’ him whenever he needed to, but Felix always stayed away from the practice room he knew the seven ‘Stray Kids’ would be in.

He avoided Hyunjin and Jeongin when he saw the pair in the cafeteria. He left Seungmin and Woojin’s heartfelt messages on read. He tried to slip past Jisung in the hallway but the fast, squirrel-like boy (who had a badly-make-up-covered bruise on his jaw, but Felix didn’t ask) caught up to him easily.

“Hey Lix!” the boy had called.

Felix had paused, no use running now.

“How’ve ya’ been?” Jisung had asked. His gaze darkened. “Changbinnie-hyung has been really worried about you, we all have.”

“I’m fine” is what Felix had said. “I’m sorry, but I have to go now.”

And that was the truth, he did have to go – go meet Lee Minho in the abandoned studio room.

There was something about both losing their dream that made them close, he assumed.

And that was where he sat now, beside the other eliminated member of Stray Kids, streaming the episode where they both weren’t on it.

“This really sucks” Minho said. Felix nodded.

They sat together in their solitude as the episode played out, and when it ended, neither of them moved to stop it from repeating itself.

He felt his eyes fill with tears.

“Minho-hyung” he choked out. “What are you going to do now?”

The elder boy was quiet for a second. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just be a back-up dancer again but… I don’t know… I really thought Stray Kids was _it,_ ya know?”

Felix sniffed; the sound ugly in the dark, dusty room.

Minho turned to him; his eyes clouded with melancholy. “What about you?”

He rested his head back on the wall, Korean he couldn’t bother trying to decipher playing in the background.

He spoke out of habit. “I think I’m going to go back-”

He stopped.

_Home._

Home is what he was _going_ to say, but the cold shoulder and icy glares his mother would surely send his way would make the house he grew up in his entire life seem like the house of a stranger.

Going back to Australia was the same as admitting defeat, a failure that everyone he had ever known had watched. How could he live if every glance towards him was of pity? Pity that his dream they all saw him work so hard for was gone because he couldn’t remember the _stupid fucking_ vocabulary he forced himself to study each night?

He knew his father and his sisters would show him nothing but love. His friends, that were finishing their second last year would support him too, but he had sacrificed the chance of them all graduating together to be here, sitting depressed in a shithole of a studio, with nothing more than some tears in his eyes and a broken dream.

He could almost imagine what his mother would say to him; ‘I was right.’

“I’m going…” he drawled out, trying to think of an answer.

Nowhere was his home now.

“- I’m going to stay here” he decided and Minho next to him, looked surprised. “Give it one last shot.”

And it was like a miracle had fallen upon him when the next day he had woken up with an email, asking him to come back to the show for one more chance, his final opportunity.

His last shot of achieving his dream and proving him mother wrong.

And onstage, in front of an audience and way too many cameras with thousands of people watching he achieved it.

“Lixie,” Changbin had cried into his shoulder. “You did it, _we_ did it!”

When JYP announced their debut date, the twenty-fifth of March, the nine of them celebrated, and Felix decided that this was what it felt like to be a family.

They worked hard, they played hard, they fought hard (he had found Jisung and Hyunjin at each other’s throats again and only then put-together that Jisung’s bruise from so long ago was because of this exact reason), and they never quit trying.

The three hours of sleep per night and ass-kicking diet was all worth it when they performed ‘District 9’ for the first time together.

On the Skype call the next morning his mother came on for the first time since he moved. She told him to stay healthy, and after the call ended, he cried tears of relief into his pillow.

Maybe things that were broken could be fixed.

Maybe time healed all wounds.

And that was what made him realise that to his mother, he never truly died, and that maybe everything would be alright.

The death of Lee Felix happened when he was eighteen.

It was strange, really. Everything in the world was going right – Stray Kids were successful (they had even held a concert in Sydney where he introduced the team to his family. Rachel, Olivia and his Father had cried. His Mother had offered him a small, hesitant smile. And that after almost two whole years of basically radio-silence, was good enough.)

He hadn’t fallen out with any members of anything (except for one fight with Jeongin that he still felt terrible about) and his dancing and rap were steadily improving with the guidance of the JYP instructors and Minho.

Even his Korean was good! He was practically fluent by now; he thought in Korean and didn’t need to slave over textbooks like how he used to. He still screwed up sometimes, but that was okay – his eight best friends and members were always there to help.

He had mostly gotten over his crush on Changbin, although sometimes it still haunted his mind late at night. But that was fine, he was fine, is what he convinced himself.

They had just had their comeback of I AM: YOU, which had been their best seller yet and had topped the charts internationally for a while.

But, like many bouts of sadness, it started with a hate comment.

< _Felix is the most useless member of Stray Kids. His ‘deep’ voice is so obviously forced, and it always ruins the vibe of songs for me. He also looks so awkward when he dances ahah, how tf did he get in the dance line again?? LOOL sorry but truth hurts :p_ >

His eyes watered as he put his phone face down on his bed.

_Don’t you dare cry Lee Felix, it’s just a stupid comment_ he willed, but yet again, tears rolled down his freckled cheeks, an attribute he had begun to hate since his move to Korea, no matter how many times Seungmin said they were lovely.

Changbin came in to say that dinner was ready, but Felix had quickly hidden his bloodshot eyes and runny nose and said he was feeling sick and didn’t feel like eating.

Five minutes later Woojin arrived to check his temperature, and Felix was thankful that he had been lying under his many blankets for the past two hours as the thermometer read a few degrees above normal.

Listening to the sounds of happy chatter from outside his room, just made him feel worse and his stomach grumbled angrily when the scent of Minho’s special black-bean-noodles drifted into the bedroom.

Hyunjin and Jisung tried to cheer him up after dinner, but Felix had pushed them away and ignored the way they looked at each other with concern in their eyes.

Sleep came to take him at eleven minutes past one.

That night he dreamt of a stormy sea and too large waves. There was no chain tying him to the seafloor, and there was no little girl in a pink rash-vest being thrown around. It was just him, getting one second of precious air, then drowning again.

He woke up with the feeling of water in his lungs and his head pounding with an oncoming headache.

He felt like he had died.

His bones were aching, his muscles felt limp, his eyebags were as dark as bruised knuckles and his mind felt numb.

It was like Death had taken its sickle and hacked his heart out.

It was like his clothes were water-logged and were dragging him down. He couldn’t hear properly like there was water in his ears, flooding his brain and killing all his emotion.

Getting up and showered that morning was one of the hardest things he had to do in his life.

“ _Lix, you good?_ ” Chan asked in English at the breakfast table. Felix blinked back, the reminder of his hometown making him feel worse.

“Yeah Channie-hyung” he replied sluggishly in Korean, nibbling precariously at his coloured cereal. “I’m fine.”

He winced at how tired he sounded. _My voice really is deep,_ he sniffed, thinking back to what Brayden Crest said to him back in high school. _Maybe it is a bit annoying._

The rest of the day he spoke as little as possible, just to see what would happen.

When Minho asked if he understood the choreography he just nodded and later that night when Jeongin asked if he liked the blue shirt or the green shirt better as a one-month-late-birthday gift for Hyunjin, Felix had pointed at the blue one.

“Do you have a sore throat, Felix?” Woojin asked on their way to vocal training. Immediately, he nodded, thankful that the elder had crafted the perfect excuse for him so he wouldn’t have to rap in front of everyone.

“I’ll make you some honey tea when we get back to the dorms” Seungmin offered and Felix smiled at the younger, the idea of some nice warm tea very appealing.

He sat on the sidelines as each member recorded some lines for their next album or joked around in the studio. He was content. He knew he couldn’t ‘lose his voice’ forever, but it was nice knowing there was no way he accidentally offended anyone or said something that made anyone uncomfortable the whole day.

So, the next day he did it again.

Woojin had forced him on bedrest and Felix didn’t refute it.

He re-watched a few episodes of Naruto with Jisung, made shitty pancakes with Seungmin and cuddled on his bed with Changbin, the mountains of stuffed animals reminding him of Olivia.

He wished he could go for one more day, not have to hear his voice for a few more hours, but he was slowly starting to get sick of soups Woojin or Chan basically shoved down his throat, and if he had one more cup of lemon and honey tea Minho and Seungmin constantly brought him, he felt like the whole room would stink of it for days.

So, on the third day, his little ‘no-speaking experiment’ was over. When he opened his mouth to assure Jeongin that he was fine, his voice was actually scratchy from misuse.

With a sinking heart he discovered that it sounded even worse than he remembered. Scratchy, too deep, too loud, irritating.

And from that day forward Lee Felix started to hate his voice, the voice that made him unique, that he was often complimented on, the voice he was once proud of.

His good mood after the love he received on his sick days dissolved into nothing.

He felt like he was drowning again. Like he was numb.

He reached up two trembling fingers to check his pulse. It was there, but he didn’t feel alive.

His friends comforted him still, albeit a bit less than when they believed he was ill, but he barely paid attention to it.

Depression clouded his mind at every move, in every second and with a startling déjà vu, he realised he felt wisps of this when he was fifteen and so damned _angry_ all the time, and then full-force after he was eliminated.

Maybe it was in stages, he pondered, lying face-up on his bed.

First there was a fire of rage inside of him, making him constantly pissed off and irritable, leading him to write angsty lyrics and punch walls. Then there was the brief field of sadness and insecurity, that swallowed him up when he was awake and crept into his dreams.

And then there was nothing. Numbness. No emotion at all.

He decided that the third stage was the worst.

He wondered if that was what dying felt like because having nothing to live for was not living at all.

Months crept by and gradually Felix got quieter and quieter, smaller and smaller.

He wore grey now when he got to choose his clothing. It made him blend in, made him feel safe, and when he did photoshoots and he had to wear bright colours, he felt like he was standing out too much.

So, in the dorms, he wore grey. It reminded him of that poor boy in his math class, humbled him in some bitter sense of the word.

He wrote lyrics sometimes, if he could be bothered. Just after debut, Felix had plans to show Chan his lyrics, as that was the very thing that had gotten him into the music world in the first place, but just as he was about to do it, he chickened out.

3RACHA were the lyricists and the producers, that was just the way things were. They didn’t need _his_ shitty lyrics, not when they already had enough to deal with, so Felix always kept his writing to himself.

Eating didn’t give him joy like it used to. Everything, even Minho’s special black-bean noodles, tasted like ash in his mouth, and hurt his stomach like there was a beast ripping up his insides.

After reading some comments about how ugly he was after they released MIROH, he decided to work on his body, develop abs that could rival Jisung or Chan’s, so he cut out food that made him fat, and stuck to vegetables and lean proteins instead.

Rachel had asked him about it one morning after Olivia and his Father had left to go to school. Felix had said nothing.

The ache in his stomach when he didn’t eat made him _feel._ It made him _feel hungry_. So that’s why he didn’t eat until he almost fell over in practice and when his head spun like a merry-go-round. Because at least feeling hungry was better than feeling nothing.

When he scrolled through the comments on ‘Side Effects,’ there was nothing about him being too fat.

Perfect.

The others noticed, and it became apparent when he denied the cake Jisung, Seungmin and Hyunjin had made Changbin for the elder’s twentieth birthday in August.

Jisung had cheekily slid him a piece anyway and in his zone of numbness, Felix had loudly snapped “ _Jesus,_ Jisung. I just told you I didn’t want some!” and hit the cake out of the boy’s hand.

Everyone was quiet, shocked for a moment.

Woojin had clicked the Vlive off immediately.

Hyunjin had started to cry.

Felix felt nothing.

He felt nothing when he screamed at his members just like how he used to scream at his mother. He felt nothing but an ache in his hand when he punched Chan in the face.

Changbin and Minho sent him to his room like a parent would and Felix obeyed angrily, slamming the door behind him so hard that a framed picture of the nine together fell off the wall and hit the floor, the glass shattering at his feet.

He cried then; his hands bloody as he attempted to reassemble the protective glass screen.

But it was broken, just like how plates had been, and just like he was.

There was no fixing it.

He wondered if this was what made Brayden Crest jump in front of a train, or James Greven swallow a whole bottle of pills.

He sobbed more when he realised that he must be right.

He wailed as he picked up a shard of glass crushed it in his hand. He hated how he liked the pain because it made his feel something, it pierced through his skin like how it slashed through the numbness.

He picked up another shard and did it again.

And so, at eighteen, death had conquered him.

Seungmin found him kneeling next to the once framed picture and quickly had called for Jeongin to grab some bandages.

His mind grew numb again as Jeongin expertly wrapped up his hands and rubbed tiger balm on his bruising fist.

“How can you do this so well?” he asked tiredly when the younger finished up.

Jeongin looked thoughtful for a moment, his face turning into a frown.

Then he simply answered, “When I was younger, I wanted to be a doctor.”

That was what made Felix cry again.

Recovering from ‘death’ was a difficult, almost impossible task and Felix doubted he could do it at all.

It was a rocky journey.

He broke down one night and told Chan in a ramble of English and Korean about his depression that hung over his mind like a wave a split second before it crashed down.

One night when he found Jisung vomiting out that night’s meal one day before their ‘Victory Song’ special performance with Minho rubbing his back with tears in his eyes at his side, Felix told them about his struggles with eating too.

They urged him to get help, speak to one of JYP Entertainment’s licenced psychologists but he shrugged them off with a bitter smile.

He definitely wasn’t fine, but he definitely didn’t want to speak to a professional. When had that ever helped him in the past? Not when he was fifteen and basically screaming for help with career choices, that’s for sure.

He was slowly getting better, starting to feel emotions again rather than the sea of numb, and he even managed a bite of his and Jisung’s shared cake.

Weakly, Jisung ate a small slice too, and Felix doesn’t remember a time he ever felt prouder of his ‘September twin.’

He even had enough courage to show Changbin some of the lyrics he wrote.

“I didn’t know you wrote Lix!” the boy had exclaimed in awe, flicking through Felix’s little black notebook.

“Are they…” Felix tore at his hangnails, nervousness overpowering his every action. ‘Are they okay?”

“The words?” Changbin asked.

Felix nodded gingerly.

Changbin smiled, the sight warm and heartfelt. “They’re great Lix,” he said softly, scanning the pages. “If you want, I can talk to the guys about using some, only if you want of course.”

Felix smiled, his heart lightening only slightly. “Yeah, hyung. Okay.”

He was slowly starting to get better.

But it all changed when Woojin announced that he wanted to leave the group.

He felt like he was plunged back into the sea again.

The official statement was released on the twenty-seventh of October

No one was okay for a while after that.

Still, the remaining eight of them (he tried not to think about all the times they included the phrase ‘nine or none’ the cheer they were built upon in their music, and seemingly the 3RACHA line were divided on whether to change it or not too, which only lead to more arguments and late nights and the cycle continued) did their best.

The dance line adjusted the choreography of all their songs to make it suitable for eight people, Jeongin, Minho, Jisung and Seungmin worked extra hard on their vocals to fill the void that was their main vocalist Kim Woojin.

For once in a long time, Felix was glad for his deep voice. That meant he wouldn’t have to fill the shoes what weren’t built for him, sing the lines that were made for Woojin.

The eight of them tried to keep in contact with Woojin, but the elder left Seoul to go back to his hometown of Bucheon. They skyped a bit, much like how Felix and his family did but it wasn’t the same.

There was no one to make soup for him when he fell sick after they finished promotions for Levanter. It took all eight of them to; firstly, find the thermometer then figure out how to use it, and _then_ what the numbers on it actually meant.

Woojin had always seemed to have a knack for knowing things and fixing things. He was the one that changed lightbulbs and fixed the stove after Hyunjin once exploded rice all over it. When the bathroom light flickered off, all of them were too tired to find the tools and ladder needed for it, so for a week until Changbin psyched himself up, they showered in darkness.

Felix thought back to his old family dogs Robbie and Chocolate. Just like them, he had never appreciated Woojin enough until he was gone.

But the world kept rotating on its axis and life moved on. He healed, slowly but surely and by February he had gained back some weight and muscle and only then, upon seeing videos and pictures of himself from the previous year, understood how unhealthy he once was.

One night he talked to his mother on the phone (he was glad it wasn’t a video call because he was so nervous the whole time that he was ripping hangnails off his fingertips until they were red and raw.)

She talked about Sydney and how his friends were about to graduate high school and how much everyone missed him. He told her about Korea, and how at least once a month he met up with his Dad’s grandparents, and how he longed for chicken salt on chips.

They both stayed away from the topic of his job as a KPOP idol. It was for the best.

Just before the end of the call, she told him the four words he wanted to hear most; “I love you, Felix.”

So, he said, “Yeah, Mum, I… I love you too.”

Things were getting better.

He felt like he could breathe again when he woke up. Milkshakes with Jeongin didn’t taste like seawater, and the clothes he bought with Hyunjin and Seungmin felt light and free, rather than something dragging him down.

He scrolled through some comments, expecting the worst.

_< BRUH Felix looks so good omg I can’t even asjbsdvbs>_

_ <For me Lixie really shone this song, his dancing is so amazing, and his solo popped off>_

_ <Felix’s voice is my favourite in Stray kids <333 Fighting!>_

It’s just to say that instead, he was pleasantly surprised.

_They… they like me._

After a whole year of being quiet, he finally started to find his voice again.

It was like finally after searching for months, or years, or however long he had been drowning in this black choppy sea of depression, he had found something to grasp onto, to keep him afloat, to keep him alive.

His friends, his family, even his Mother and STAY were all there for him, saving him from the tide, from the rip he found himself in.

One evening he burst into tears as the eight of them enjoyed Minho’s special black-bean noodles.

“Lix? Lix?” Chan had shot up immediately and if a matter of milliseconds he was at his side. “ _Lix, what’s wrong? Tell Hyung what’s wrong._ ”

Felix just sobbed harder, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his jumper.

He leaned into Changbin’s careful embrace and collected himself, taking three deep breaths.

“Felix?” someone asked quietly.

Through his tears, he looked up at his members, his best friends, who had been there for him through thick or thin. He laughed wetly, his vision blurring and felt his heart lift up inside of him, break open from its encasing, and _beat._

He moved a hand up to his neck to feel his pulse.

_Thu-thump, Thu-thump, Thu-thump._

He grinned. He was alive, he was living.

The death that had followed him his entire life hadn't taken him down. 

“I’m sorry” he apologised another tear falling down his freckled cheeks. “I’m just… happy.”

He watched with a giggle as eight taut faces relaxed into wide relieved smiles and soon enough his friends were crying happy tears with him.

He sent a quick message to Woojin, writing ‘ _I love you lots, hyung. Hope home is good._ ’

The elder replied instantly, sending a heart emoji and Felix laughed when he showed it to the other members.

And so, that was what made him realise that his death, his depression, was something that he could fight and beat too, just like a wave in an almost-endless dark sea.

And maybe, while he was on the shore, he could try to truly live a little too.

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyy, what's going on? 
> 
> I'm back a lot sooner than expected because - fact: I wrote this in twenty-four hours and now I'm exhausted. This whole thing was very on the fly - I was writing a different fic and then I just wanted to spontaneously write something "short" like 'Breathe,' so I just started and didn't stop ahah.
> 
> Lowkey like the story and whatever but I hate the title and summary of this so if you have any other titles for it pls help me change it because i hate it lol.
> 
> Um okay, let's do a few disclaimers first then jump into the symbolism!
> 
> Firstly, I know in this fic I represented religion/the Catholic Church in a rather negative light, and I wanted to say that I don't personally abide by the views written in this fic. I know religion is a very touchy subject so if I offended you, I deeply apologise and you have the full right to scream at me in the comments. 
> 
> Secondly, this was a really strange concept? Like after 'Eighteen' I wasn't planning on any upcoming 'time-skip' esc fics because they jump around a bit and stuff and usually I like to space my main character/style of writing/themes (to a lesser extent) out a bit. I hope it wasn't too depressing (writing about the drowning made me question whether i should post this or not because it's a terrible, terrible tragedy, but I decided to include it?? IDK if you ever need to talk about it/discuss it with me feel free to do so.) IDK I hope this wasn't as bad as i thought as there was no structure/plan or anything.
> 
> Okay, symbolism:
> 
> \- obviously death is a large factor as it is something that 'timestamps' his life if that makes sense. Majority of them, more so the drowning, severely impacts his life throughout the fic and the ocean is a really large element of symbolism for it.
> 
> \- I, like Felix, have gone through a lot of uncertainty in the career aspect of things, so I wanted each death (omg i feel so bad writing that) makes him change his mind about what he wants to be (doctor/vet/lifeguard/'business man'/ then finally idol.)
> 
> \- The last 'deaths' are not physical/literal. It's the death of him as a son as he chooses his dreams over his mother, then he views his depression as a 'death' too as he feels so numb that he's not alive anymore.
> 
> \- although I was NEVER diagnosed, I do believe a few years back i had depressive-like symptoms and, therefore, Felix's depression is largely based on my own experience. (The 'stages of depression of normal, angry, insecure/sad, then nothingness') This does not apply to everyone as it is always different for each person.
> 
> \- idk if there much more symbolism? like there's the small things with checking his pulse, religious imagery etc. 
> 
> Sorry I'm really informal in these notes - my fingers hurt from typing so much ahaha.
> 
> Now some questions for you!  
> -What was your favourite line/part of this fic? IDK why i liked writing the fifteen-year-old Felix the most because he was so 'i dont give a fuck' and so angry all the time and it was kinda fun to write?  
> -Secondly, how was Felix's characterization? Because this was so unplanned and stuff, I didn't really include little 'Easter Eggs' like how I usually do (I guess one I can think of is that Jeongin also wanted to be a doctor when he was a kid and that shit hurted my heart ooops) Did you feel the pain when reading this?  
> -Finally, how did you think of Felix's family? I didn't get to include them a lot, especially as I was only going to write this for around 5,000 words and stuff. The Mum came around? Kinda?
> 
> Honestly, my thoughts on this fic are pretty jumbled. 
> 
> There are some parts of it I really liked (such as when he was fifteen, his attitudes on different things, and how I wrote some of his depression) but there are other elements I'm not the happiest with. (like I feel like it's a bit rushed at times? ((I say when writing this in 24 hours istg)) Only a few members got a 'cameo' if you will and I didn't get to explore his relationships with everyone very well ((Hyunjin is only mentioned like ten times and most of it is just him fighting with Jisung oops)). I don't love the ending ngl, but I don't really know what else to do? It was really hard with the whole 'Woojin isn't there but he's still significant in this story so how do I include him wtf is going on.' The main thing I hate about this story is the title and summary omg. I was thinking about calling it Moribund?? But it also doesn't really work... lmk what u think.
> 
> Alright, peace out everyone. I haven't any homework this weekend because I am dumb and now it's Sunday night at 10:33 pm rip. Oh well, I don't get in a 'writing craze' all that often, so on the rare chance I do, I make sure I use it.
> 
> Upcoming projects: Basically I have like eight different one-shots I really love going on all at once, but none f them are close to being finished. 
> 
> See you next time!
> 
> Talic


End file.
